


Your Number's Up

by kinkyandcreepy



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sexual Violence, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28866921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkyandcreepy/pseuds/kinkyandcreepy
Summary: Tell me your name and I'll tell you mine.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	Your Number's Up

**Author's Note:**

> second person perspective. complaint with both dbd!ghostface and scream!ghostface. enjoy

It had been a fairly normal night for you.

After a gruelling day of nine-to-five retail work and an after-hours hospital appointment you had to drive to just to pick up a new medication prescription, it was nearing nine in the evening and you were alone in your apartment. 

Had it been a normal night, you might have tried going out, maybe even calling your friends to see if they wanted to go bar hopping with you and drink away your paycheck. But in your current state, the idea of leaving your apartment again made your stomach turn and you knew everyone else already had plans of their own anyway.

Plus you did try not to drink with new medication in your system. It had never worked out that well for you in the past, and it was hardly likely that it was going to change, despite how much you tried.

So instead of going out and enjoying your city’s poor excuse of a nightlife like any other mid-to-late twenty year old would have done, you had instead decided to rent a horror film from Blockbuster to fill up your time. 

It was a good movie too. One of the classic slasher flicks you hadn’t gotten around to watching yet but everyone raved about.

The guy at the Blockbuster cash register had flirted with you casually while he rang up your purchase, and he _was_ pretty cute (long black hair, smeared eye makeup, a tattoo of a mermaid on his neck, definitely your type but maybe too young for you), so you didn’t mind it. He told you that you were watching his favourite film (and he did say film), and maybe you could come round to his place and watch it again some time. You sort of shrugged and laughed off his sweet words awkwardly, but he still slipped you his number on a Blockbuster Membership Card flyer with a wink and a smile on his pierced lips. 

And maybe you were enough of a loser to find that genuinely flattering, but it had put you in a better mood about the evening before it'd had the chance to even properly start.

When you got home, you found that the previous renter of the video had forgotten to rewind the tape before they returned it. The discourteous gesture was annoying, for sure, but it didn't bother you that bad as you slid the tape into your VHS player and set the machine on automatic rewind. 

You crossed the open plan of your apartment and into the tiny side kitchen, humming a made-up song to yourself as the VHS player spun. Remembering you’d found a packet of slightly expired popcorn in the back of your cupboard the other day, you spent a minute or so digging around for it before triumphantly putting it in the microwave for five minutes. 

Just to make sure it was fully popped. Because there was nothing worse than half popped popcorn. 

You leaned against the kitchen counter, idly watching as the bag spun slowly, your mind already wandering away from you a bit. Maybe you would actually call that guy from Blockbusters, even if it was just to make the evening a touch more interesting.

But before you could pick up the phone and dial his number, it started ringing as your hand hovered over it.

You looked at it for a second or two as it rang, wondering if maybe you'd given the guy your number first and just forgotten about it. Though why would you have, if you already had his? No point in exchanging numbers because of a cheeky flirt, right? Shaking that thought from your head, you picked up the phone and pressed the 'Accept Call' button.

"Hello?" You said politely into the receiver.

"Hello."

The voice on the other end of the line wasn't one that you recognised at all, and it _definitely_ didn't belong to the Blockbuster guy. It was deep and smooth and...maybe even a touch sensual. You frowned slightly at the receiver, not from anger or annoyance, just out of confusion.

"Er...I’m sorry, can I help you?" You asked, your tone somewhat cautious though you maintained your polite, over-the-phone voice. It might have been a late-night telemarketer, and you were never one to be a dick to someone who was just doing their job. 

"Who is this?" The voice replied, his (because the voice was decidedly male) tone not changing in the slightest, despite the question. Clearly not a telemarketer.

“Well, who are you trying to reach, and maybe I can help you out." You offered, somewhat bemused and smiling slightly to yourself as you leant back against the counter. It must have been a wrong number. 

“What number is this?" Though there wasn't any real uncertainty to his voice. If anything, they just seemed even more sure of themselves.

"What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know."

"Look, man, I think you just have the wrong number." You laughed softly, looking back over at your microwave and staring at the ticking countdown. The bag inside was popping steadily, but it still needed another few minutes before it was ready.

"Do I?" The voice asked, almost as if they were intrigued.

“Don't worry, it happens all the time. Take it easy, yeah?"

You hung up and set the phone back into it's charging dock. Suddenly, the idea of calling the guy from Blockbuster put a sour taste in your mouth, so you just continued to stare at the spinning, popping popcorn, deciding a relaxed evening on your own with a scary movie would probably be for the best. 

Maybe you would have had a good time if you had tried to go out, but then again, you wouldn't have had that weird conversation. That was going to be something worth talking about with your coworkers in the morning, at the very least.

Almost as if it were scripted, the phone then started to ring again.

You looked over at it with an almost accusatory glare. You'd never gotten more than one telephone call in an entire night, let alone one within five minutes of the last. Even your heavily doting mother usually gave you at least an hour between each telephone call. 

You paced quickly over to the phone and squinted at its tiny display screen, just to make sure it wasn’t a friend or coworker fucking with you. 

“Undisclosed.”

So they were blocking their number from you, huh? Weird. 

You would curse yourself out for this later, but at that moment, you were curious enough that you couldn't just let it go to voicemail. That and your “traditional” upbringing meant that you couldn't possibly ignore it and seem rude to whoever was calling.

You picked it up again.

"Hello." You said down the line, pacing idly between the kitchen and the living room. The tape had stopped rewinding but the badly cut trailers and product placements on your screen weren't quite capturing your attention.

"I'm sorry. I guess I dialled the wrong number."

It was the voice from before again. Maybe he _was_ trying to sell you something but he definitely wasn't a telemarketer.

"So why did you dial it again?" You were still somewhat amused by the stranger's motivation though. His perseverance was something to admire, at the very least. And it would be something of interest that would make for a mildly entertaining story later too. 

"To apologise." He replied earnestly, and you chuckled softly at his response.

"You're forgiven, alright? Bye."

You pulled the phone away from your ear for maybe a second, your thumb hovering over the 'End Call' button, before you heard the voice again.

"Wait, wait, don't hang up yet." He said insistently and you quickly pressed your ear against the phone again.

"What?" You frowned slightly to yourself.

"I just want to talk to you for a second." He said, as earnest as before, and you felt yourself smirk, leaning against your kitchen counter again, facing the long window that spanned most of your kitchen wall and looked out onto the empty-looking street of your corner of the city. 

The lamps that lit your street had been flickering on-and-off for a while, and no-one had come out to fix it yet. Really spoke volumes about the kind of neighbourhood you lived in.

"You know that they have numbers for that. The Lonely Hearts hotlines and shit." You said, jumping up to sit on your counter, your legs dangling over the side. “Might suit your needs a little better.”

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" The voice asked, a pout almost audible, and you couldn't help but chuckle slightly, almost taking his insistence to keep talking to you as a compliment.

"Who is this?"

"How about you tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine."

“I don’t think so." You replied, though your tone was still light, before the microwave started to beep, telling you that your popcorn was ready and waiting for you to take out. You slipped off the counter and opened the microwave door, wafting the barely-there grey smoke away and waiting for the constant popping to calm down a little.

"What's that noise?" He asked curiously, since he must have heard the beeping of your microwave through the receiver.

"Popcorn." You balanced your phone against your cheek and shoulder as you pulled the bag open at the corners, hissing slightly when the hot steam licked your skin. Holding it in one hand and sitting back on the counter in an almost masterful balancing act. "Microwave just finished cooking it."

"Oh. I only eat popcorn at the movies."

"Well, I am getting ready to watch a video, actually." You said as you dug your hand into the still slightly smoky bag, picking out the cooler kernels and snacking on them while you talked. Maybe impolite, but so was calling a stranger back after they hung up on you once before, so like you really cared.

"Really? What?" The voice kept pushing. His insistence to know your film choices made you smirk coquettishly as you ate your expired popcorn.

"A scary movie." You shrugged. "Why?"

"Do you like scary movies?"

"Mmhmm." You nodded to yourself, talking with your mouth full. "Love 'em."

_"What's your favourite scary movie?"_

His voice dipped slightly into a lower tone that almost made you shiver, it sounded so good. The stranger was pretty obviously flirting with you at this point, but, for whatever low self-esteem reason, you genuinely took it as a compliment. It was, at least, making your evening significantly more interesting. 

And you never took a flirtatious comment negatively either.

"Ohh, that’s a hard one." You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. "Got lots."

"You have to have a favourite. Come on, which one scares you the most?"

"Hmm..." You paused, setting down the bag on the counter and licking the salty residue from your fingers. "Maybe _Stab_. You know, the one where the masked killer butchers all those teenagers? Apparently it’s based on a true story too, so that makes it even scarier." You jumped down from your counter. "What's yours?"

"Have a guess."

"Hm... _Nightmare on Elm Street._ " You offered, smiling to yourself at your obviously genius suggestion.

"Oh yeah,” The stranger agreed enthusiastically. “I liked that movie. It was scary."

“Yeah, maybe the first one was, but the rest were garbage.” You laughed down the receiver. “Maybe the second one was kinda decent but only if you got a fetish for brutalising pretty boys in your horror movies."

The voice chuckled softly at your slight tangent, before he was silent for a second too long, long enough for you to wonder if he was still there, before he spoke up again.

"So. You got a boyfriend then?"

"Why?" You asked, unable to fight the smile pulling at your lips, feeling your face flush just a little bit. "You wanna go out with me?"

"Maybe." The voice responded, sounding somewhat smug. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No." You replied, grinning to yourself and leaning with your back to the kitchen window.

“You know, you never told me your name."

"Why do you want to know my name?" You said, smiling, idly twirling a lock of your hair around your finger, half interested in the voice's supposed proposition.

_"Because I wanna know who I'm looking at.”_

Almost the second the voice spoke, you could feel your blood run ice cold and your heart pound hard underneath your rib cage. Your body felt stiff as you looked over your shoulder and outside of the kitchen window, suddenly anxious of whatever might be lurking in the darkness outside.

"W-What did you say?" You asked, your voice trembling as you tried to force yourself to move to the kitchen window, shut the blinds and hide away any chance of someone staring in at you.

"I wanna know who I'm talking to." He replied quickly, his tone almost humorous, making fun of you while still playing coy.

"No, that's not what you said." You insisted, frowning to yourself and gripping the phone tighter in your fist.

The phone still in hand and still hearing the voice talk to you through the speaker, you quickly dashed over to the kitchen window, leant over the metal sink (and its dripping faucet) and peeked outside to try and find anyone that might have been able to look in on you. There was a phone box on the street, but no occupant, and even if there was, there was no chance they would have been able to see you down from street level. 

Suddenly the empty windows of the apartment building on the other side of the street were making you incredibly nervous. For all you knew, some creep was just watching you in the darkness, and you had no idea. You quickly pulled the cord to let the blind over your own window fall down. Just to give you some kind of peace of mind, even if the stranger over the phone was obviously just a prank caller and was just trying to get under your skin.

“L-Look, I've got to go." You said roughly, not even trying to mask the harshness in your voice that the fear was giving you.

"Wait, hang on, I thought we were gonna go out?" The voice asked, his tone almost hurt as he sensed the sudden accusation in your own voice.

"No, I don't think so." You snapped, crossing the kitchen and back into the living room.

"Don't hang up on me!" You could hear the voice shout at you even with the phone away from your ear, so you quickly pressed the end call button and put the phone back into the charging dock.

You paced back quickly into the kitchen, your body full of nervous energy, peeking between the blind slats just to see if there was any sort of a change in the street outside. Nothing so far, and no weirdos on the other side of the street looking at your apartment with a pair of binoculars either.

But still, your heart couldn't stop racing and even your hands were shaking as you pushed them through your hair and dragged them down your face, trying to regulate your slightly too fast breathing. The irony of picking up a new prescription of anxiety meds not two hours earlier was not at all lost on you. 

“Okay, okay. Just chill out. You’re fine.”

Trying to forget about the conversation that you just had, you picked up your bag of cooled down popcorn and turning to the tv screen, now displaying the opening scenes of your movie. Though honestly your appetite for horror movies had gone down substantially, and you thought maybe a nice rom-com would have settled your nerves a little better.

The phone started ringing again, and when you jumped from the sound of it, you dropped the bag, promptly emptying its contents onto your kitchen floor.

"Shit." You mumbled to yourself, stepping over the mess and picking up the phone again. Significantly more pissed off than frightened, you accepted the call with shaking fingers.

A major mistake on your part.

"What?" You barked down the line, almost glaring at your window, despite the blind being drawn.

"I told you not to hang up on me." The voice again, his tone not nearly as light-hearted as it had been before. It was deeper, threatening, like it was a warning in itself.

“What do you want?"

"To talk."

"Well, dial someone else, okay?!" You were nearly shouting down the receiver, reasonably angry in your mind.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with talking to me before." The voice taunted you, a sneer almost audible in his voice. “Or was that because you wanted the attention.” You could feel your teeth grit together in anger as your fist around the phone tightened.

"Listen, you creepy asshole-"

"No, you listen, you little bitch! You hang up on me again, I'll gut you like a fish! You understand?" His threat promptly shut you up and your mouth immediately snapped closed. After a few seconds of silence (from him waiting for you, from you being too scared to even try and respond), he let out a low, menacing laugh that affected you far more than anything he had said yet. "Yeah. I think you do."

"Is this fucking funny to you, you creep?" You bit back down your receiver, fear keeping you quiet. "This some kind of joke to you?”

"I see it as more of a game, really. Think you can handle that?"

"Listen…” You paused for a moment, conscious of how much you stumbled on your words. “I'm two seconds away from calling the police so just...just leave me alone before you get into serious trouble, okay?" You mumbled, trying to sound determined or intimidating in the slightest but probably failing when even you could hear the shaking in your voice.

"Come on, you know they wouldn't listen to you." The voice laughed again. "I know your shitty neighbourhood by now, babe. I’ve been watching it for a while now. And let’s be real. No-one would even notice if I left your bleeding body hanging from a tree."

As the stranger talked, though it practically sounded like a monologue, you dashed to your front door and quickly, the phone still pressed firmly to your ear, locked it shut with its deadbolt. You even took the extra precaution to unloop the door chain and slide that in place too. 

It was small, but it made you feel a little safer. 

Other than that, all you could do was bite back a whimper, trying to hold yourself together as you slid down to the kitchen floor in an attempt to feel even a margin safer, clutching at your knees like it was the only way of grounding you. Biting down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut.

Trying desperately to ignore the flush on your face that was already spreading down your neck, your sweaty palms and how much your hands were shaking. 

How much you were starting to ache already.

"What do you want?" You whimpered again, trying to cover your mouth and not let any other kind of sounds out. Making sure that he didn't hear your shaking breathing, the way you were panting.

_To see what your insides look like."_

As you listened to his final threat, you couldn't help but let a long, low moan slip out from the back of your throat, tipping your head back against the kitchen counter, totally lost in your own ecstatic pleasure. You tried (poorly) to aim the receiver away from you, even quickly covering it with your hand as you let out a stuttered breath, just so the stranger couldn't hear the hedonistic sounds you were making in response to all the horrible things he was saying to you. 

Not wanting him to know that you thought they were, in fact, the exact opposite of horrible.

You just hoped he couldn’t see you, now you were on the floor. Your dick was already hard underneath your jeans and it had only been aching more and more as he spoke just minutes before. Inevitable, really, but you still felt almost ashamed about it.

With your free hand, you reached down to idly stroke the front of your jeans, pressing the phone back against your ear.

"Oh my god.” The voice started, which made you stop stroking almost immediately. “Oh my fucking god, are you getting off to this? You fucking pervert."

"No!" You said quickly (too quickly), sitting up on the floor and pulling your hand away from your jeans. Your toes curled under your socks and your face flushed dark red from shame as you gripped your phone tighter. Letting out a shaky little breath and swallowing hard, trying to hide your obvious arousal. "I mean, no, how could you even think that? Of course I-I'm not-"

"Oh?" The voice snapped harshly, cutting you off. "So you're not touching yourself thinking about how I'm going to gut you like the pig bitch you are and then fuck the bloody hole I leave behind?"

As he spoke, the stranger’s voice sank into an even deeper, almost sexy, growl that shook something deep, deep inside you and made the pit of your stomach burn even more.

You started to unbutton your jeans again.

"God, you are. You fucking sicko.” The voice continued, chuckling darkly to himself as he spoke. “I bet your guts would feel so good on my cock. All the blood just pouring out of you would feel even better though." 

His words alone were enough to paint vivid and sickeningly colourful images in your mind, and the growing excitement to his voice only encouraged you to stroke yourself through the denim even more, already feeling how hard you were. It was almost like he knew how this was affecting you, just from how explicit his already graphic threats had gotten.

Not like you were complaining though.

"Fuck, and after that, after I’m done with you and someone finds you, they'll find my cum in your body, baby, and it'll be fucking worth it." He let out a slightly rasped sigh through the receiver that you instantly recognized as one of strained arousal. Seemed that you weren't the only one getting off to his threats. "Ha. Like I'd get caught though. No-one's gonna care if a gore junkie slut like you gets killed off, huh?"

"No...no-one's gonna care." You said softly into your own receiver, finally breaking your silence and barely keeping a moan back as you tucked your jeans down around your knees and fondled yourself through your boxers, dick already practically tenting the thin fabric.

"That’s a good boy." The voice purred, before he let out another short, almost frustrated sigh. “Fuck, you sound so fucking hot…” You couldn't help but smile to yourself from the praise of a stranger. Just waiting for more encouragement from him as you touched yourself. "How about I fuck you in a pool of your own blood then, huh? I could cut you up, make you bleed so, so pretty for me." The voice got gruffer as he kept speaking, only coaxing you into the darkness even further. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I tortured you a little first."

"Yes, yes, I-I'd like that!" You whined desperately through the phone, boxers finally down with your jeans, slowly jerking yourself off as you kept listening to them growl at you. "Fuck, yes, I'd really like that, please..."

"Ohhh, that's the stuff, huh?" He asked, almost coyly, laughing roughly at you and your inability to be quiet for even a second. "That get you goin', huh? You sick fuck.” His voice was heavy with arousal, his words drawling and long. “How about if I carve my name into your body first? I have a knife with your name on it, ya know. Big and long and perfect...even more perfect when it's got your blood on it." He sighed heavily to himself again, and you’re already addicted to the sound. "Red on silver, yeah, baby? The only thing better would be seeing that red on your skin. I've seen you enough times that I can already imagine what your body would look like cut up underneath me. How you'd look like twitching in pain. Bet you'd look fucking beautiful like that."

You pressed the palm of your hand against your mouth as you listened intently, moaning softly as he described his grisly vision to you. You let your head tip back again, lost in truly unspeakable pleasure, trying to ignore how your dick twitched with everything he said and how your slit was already dripping pearly drops of pre-cum, without you even touching it that much.

Though you were too far gone to care at this point, obviously.

"Fuck, I wanna taste it so bad." The voice continued, as rasped and desperate as before. "I bet it would taste so, so fucking sweet, baby. Like fucking honey or some shit." Pausing for a second just to groan away from the phone receiver, but not far enough that you didn't hear it. "Fuck me, I wanna taste your blood and watch the life drain from your eyes while I fuck you."

Another long groan from him only furthered your own, almost painful arousal. You wanted to hear more and more of it as you worked yourself over, still keeping your pace unbearably slow. 

Maybe you were doing it in time with each other and you didn't even know it. 

The image was almost romantic.

All of this was starting to feel sort of romantic, in a twisted kind of way.

"Maybe…” He continued, his voice stuttering a little more than it was before. “Fuck, maybe I'll slit your throat, and watch you choke on your own blood as you cum with my cock stuffed inside of you."

Just imagining his last threat (taunt? incredibly gory excuse of dirty talk?) made you moan so loudly into the receiver, you couldn't even pretend to hold it back or quiet it down even a little. Gripping your phone tight and working yourself over with shaking hands, you were getting closer and closer to your own climax already.

But you didn't want it to stop. 

You didn't want it to ever stop. You wanted to keep hearing his deliciously awful threats and dirty talk, maybe for forever if you could.

Maybe that should have worried you a little, that you were getting off so quickly to such gruesome dirty talk and jacking off to a stranger detailing explicitly how they wanted to torture and kill you. But you were honestly far, far past the point of caring about your sudden gore fetish at this point. It was just worth writing it off as just another thing to push into the back of your mind and feel guilty about on the High Holy Days.

The voice laughed again, clearly at your expense, though it was breathier to the degree that he almost sounded...worn out. Maybe more turned on, just like you were.

"Oh, you _really_ liked that one, didn't you, ya little psycho?" He taunted, and you couldn't help but nod to yourself, pretending that he could see you, could watch you doing all of this and push it even further. "Say, does everyone else know you're a disgusting freak who gets off to this shit, or is it just me, huh?"

"No, it’s j-just you." You managed to stutter out, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to lose it. You even slowed down the jerks of your wrist in the hope that you could put off the orgasm for a little longer, despite how close you already felt. So he’d have to keep talking. "I've never told anyone...anyone else. Always got scared t-to admit I like it."

"Aw. Ya know, that almost makes me feel special." The voice cooed, almost bordering the line of affection as he spoke, though his words were thick and syrupy and fake like too sweet, artificial honey, and the lies made you shudder with delight. "Hey, maybe I won't kill you so quickly then. Could be fun to just watch you squirm before I gut you.” A dark chuckle slipped between his words, giving you a minute to take everything in. “Maybe I could even keep you for a little while...tie you up, gag you so you couldn’t scream, and cut your pretty little body up however I wanted to. Keep you like a little pet before I kill you. How's that sound, baby?"

He posed it like a question, like he expected an answer from you but your only attempt of response came out as a whimper, muffled by your palm against your mouth again, eyes squeezed shut. Not wanting to admit to yourself (or to him) just how good that all sounded, and how much you wanted him to act on every one of his sickening threats so badly it hurt.

“Tell me you want it.” The voice growled at you when the phone was against your ear again, and you could only let out more whimpers. “Now!”

It was as if he had looked right into your head, finding your worst sources of shame and was now forcing you to look at it with open eyes. Forcing you to admit just how awful you were.

You were so deeply ashamed, you wanted to scream, but that did nothing to quell your arousal. If anything, it just made it worse.

“I-I want it...” You mumbled softly, your voice shaking as you spoke into the receiver and gripped yourself even tighter. Feeling pre-cum drip down your fingers as you were barely seconds away from an orgasm. “I want it so, so fucking bad.”

“Fuuuck yes, that’s it. That’s a good boy.” The voice moaned into the receiver, obviously satisfied with your sad excuse of begging. and even that was enough to push you further to climax. You gripped yourself tight as you held back a frustrated sob. "You’re gonna look so good under me, baby." He continued. "All tied up. My hands around your throat ‘til your face is blue. Fuck, I wanna see you take your last breath when I cum in that pretty little ass of yours. So that's the last thing you'll feel before you die." Letting out a breathy chuckle in between his own panting and sighs of hedonistic pleasure. 

You could almost imagine him touching himself the same way that you were. You would have given anything to see the real thing. 

For now, all you could do was nod along, whimpering and whining into the receiver and not stopping the desperate little jerks of your wrist for even a second. Though still keeping it slow enough that you could listen to every word that he said.

"I wanna see you vivisected. Wanna see your eyes water every time I take out one of your organs and hold 'em right in front of your face. Make the _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ look like a fucking suggestion…”

"God, and your skin just...painted blood red every time I touch you. Wouldn't even be able to stop watching, you’re so goddamn hungry for it."

"I want to devour you. I wanna eat your heart in front of your eyes, and I want that to be the last thing you see. My face, my body, just covered in your blood."

"I want that SO. FUCKING. BAD."

You weren't quite sure why the last part of his blood-lust fuelled monologue was the thing to push you over your edge, but that was when you lost it.

Your climax hit you like a steam train, forcing out a choked cry and a string of simpering whimpers and gasps. You tried in vain to hold yourself together as your body shook with shuddering spasms and jerks, making you drop the phone to the floor with a loud plastic on plastic clatter. You hunched over yourself as multiple quick spurts of cum coated your fingers and stained the front of your shirt, each splatter of cum forcing another desperate sound from your lips. However grim it might have looked to an outsider (and yeah, a guy jacking off alone in their kitchen would have probably looked pretty grim to most people), you were too busy trying to catch your breath back and stop yourself from nearly hyperventilating to care too much about the poor location, the stains on your shirt and the sudden stickiness on your skin.

You allowed yourself a moment to just breathe, letting out a long, well needed exhale as the orgasm slowly washed over you, your head tipping back against the cupboard door and your eyes sliding shut. Those post-climax moments where you weren’t caught up in feeling bad over what you just jacked off over, where you didn’t have to address the inevitable twisting coil of shame that was sure to come the second you stopped feeling so good, were truly blissful.

If short-lived. 

You snapped almost aggressively back to reality, suddenly hyper-aware of the cum rapidly cooling against your skin and the mess you had made of your kitchen, when you heard the almost cackle of a laugh coming from the phone. Audible, loud almost, even several feet away from where you were hunched in the corner. 

You swallowed uncomfortably as you reached over for it and slowly raised it to your ear in silence, though you quickly had to pull it away again when the stranger continued their cackling laughter - obviously at your expense. 

The worst part was you couldn’t even really blame him. You had utterly humiliated yourself for the sake of a sadistic jack off session with a stranger, and now all you wanted to do was hang up the phone, take a long shower, crawl into bed and spiral into a pit of self-hatred and shame. 

And had it been any other situation, any other person, you would have hung up in an instant. But for some reason, something burrowed deep inside your fucked up little brain told you to stay on the line. 

"Hey." The stranger finally said, their voice low and even, completely in control of the situation once again. "We're not finished."

"What." You deadpanned, your irritated and slightly hoarse voice a far cry from the desperate mess on the phone just minutes ago. "You got what you wanted, didn't you? What else do you want from me?"

"Oh, you think I got what I wanted? You think any of this was for me?" He asked, the question sounding almost genuine, before he let out another little laugh. Different to the others, this one was raspy and threateningly maniacal. "Oh no, sweetie, this isn't even the warm-up. I'm just getting started." You could practically hear the sick grin on his face, and it made something in your stomach twist uncomfortably tight. “Oh, and you better not have been lying to me, baby. Cus I fully intend on holding you to every single one of your promises."

You didn't have to ask to know exactly what horrible intentions he may have had with you if you didn't play along with his twisted game. 

“If you try anything,” You started firmly, your jaw tense and your muscles even tenser. “I swear to god, I’ll call the police and report your sorry motherFUCKING ASS!” The end of your sentence was a near shout, but that clearly did little to intimidate the stranger.

"We’ll see about that.” His reply was calm, with a twinge of humour that almost said ‘I dare you’ in tone alone, and it just made your gut twist even more. “Don’t call me, I'll call you."

“Catch ya later, babe.”

Then the line went dead. 

**Author's Note:**

> have i played dead by daylight at all? no but i love their interpretation of ghostface so much i had to write something for him. yes i ripped scream dialogue for this thing don't @ me
> 
> this will probably have a second part...at some point. this is also basically a self insert, i just...love ghostface so much ya'll
> 
> https://ivegotsomesweetthings.tumblr.com/  
> https://twitter.com/stabbymurdermen


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